


Rise of the Canadians

by orphan_account



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Australia, Canada, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 02:00:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5187863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little Spy ‘n Sniper thing I’m writing, in which our two (anti-?) heroes go on a SECRET MISSION to defeat CANADIANS and along the way learn a little ‘bout FRIENDSHIP and TEAMWORK.</p><p>Enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**RED Base**

 

"Robots. Geez, am I glad that's done with," said Scout. "If I never see another rusted hunk of junk again, I'll be happy."

There was a bit of murmured agreement as the RED team sat around the common area, drinking beer provided to them by Miss Pauling for saving the Mann company and her life.

"I, for one, am going to go on a long vacation," said Engineer. "Maybe spend some time on the ol' family ranch."

"ATTENTION, MAGGOTS. ZHANNA AND I HAVE DECIDED TO-" but Soldier never got to explain what they had decided, as Saxton Hale burst through the door.

"The Canadians are coming!" he yelled, grabbing Scout wildly by the collar and then tossing him brusquely aside. "Those maple-lovin' hippies have militarized and they are headed straight for us!"

"So? You love beating up hippies. It's like your favourite thing," said Scout, brushing off his shirt. "Besides, they're Canadians, what they gonna do, throw snowballs at us?"

"I said the same thing!" said Saxton, his eyes wild and unhinged. "Everything is all screwy! Everything decent and good in the world is gone!"

 

**A few hours previous to that particular scene…**

 

Saxton Hale reviewed his office. He was glad to be back, but he could smell residual Gray Mann stink all over it. Shame, he'd probably have to torch the place and build a new one. At least now he could install the mud wrestling pit just under the floor that he'd always wanted.

He was staring at the centre of the room, pondering what size pit would be adequate for his daily needs, when his assistant, Bidwell, ran in.

"Canadians, sir! They're marching straight up the stairs, uninvited!" he said frantically.

"Canadians, you say! Well! I know just how to treat THEM," said Saxton, pulling an aluminum boomerang from the wall.

"You don't understand! They-" but Bidwell was cut off as an axe entered his skull.

A broad woman dressed in forest green mountie-esque regalia entered the room in a stride, walking over to the manservant and extracting her axe.

"Sorry about that. He was just being awfully hysteric just now," she said, cleaning her axe. "Anyway, nice to meet you. My name is Amelia, and I will be decommissioning your entire business, if that's okay. Sorry."

"You think I won't hit a woman?" said Saxton, puffing up. "Because I will!"

"Oh, well, you're welcome to try," she said cheerfully.

"A challenge!" he replied, and Saxon wound up for a hit. However, to his dismay, she held up a single gloved hand and caught his blow effortlessly.

"I think you'll find yourself a bit…deflated," she said, and she fished inside her green coat and removed a large, glowing turquoise stone. "Have you ever heard of Borealium, Mr. Hale?"

Saxton was in shock. "What is the witchcraft, devil-woman?"

"Not witchcraft, actually. Borealium. Equal and opposite reactions and all that. We uncovered a veritable stockpile of it in Saskatchewan, which really explains a lot about Saskatchewan, come to think of it. Anyhoo! It neutralizes Australium, and Australians in general. Does a bit of a number on electronics and mechatronics too, actually, so I wouldn't bother with that," she said, seeing Saxton cocking a shotgun. He aimed and shot, and the gun jammed. He threw it in a rage, and to his dismay, it only flew about two feet away and immediately broke apart.

"Don't you see, Mr Hale? The time of you freakishly strong, violent Australians is over. With Borealium, a time of peace will be ushered in. No weapons! Just things made from nature," she finished. Saxon Hale fell to his knees with a cry that was heard for miles.

 

**Let's go back to RED base**

 

"…and now the crazy sheila Canuck's on the march! She's got a horde of lumberjacks and critters, marching' around and dismembering weapons and spreading peace everywhere. You fellas will be out of a job unless we take her down!" finished Hale.

"She can take our lives," yelled Demo, "but she will never take our jobs!"

"Without weapons?" said Spy, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, just not mechanical types," explained Saxton. "Knifes and the like work as well as ever…if you don't have little noodle arms!" he said, looking on the verge of actual tears.

Spy walked up, removed one of his gloves, and slapped the burly Australian across the face.

"Pull yourself together, man, you're an embarrassment," he said and took a few steps back and replaced his glove. "Where are they now?"

"They've taken over Mann Tower," said a frazzled looking Miss Pauling as she entered the room. "They're burning inventory and singing Rita MacNeil songs, from what I've been told."

"AWAITING ORDERS, MISS PAULING," said Soldier, snapping to attention. "LET'S SHOW THESE CANUCKS WHAT FREEDOM TASTES LIKE."

"At ease," said Miss Pauling and she considered them for a moment.

"Sounds like all we need to do is remove that woman," said the engineer. "Unfortunately none of my skills seem to apply to this particular conundrum," he finished, giving a wistful look to his sentry.

"No, anything mechanical will be repelled by those tech-backwards Canadians and their blasted Borealium," confirmed Saxton, grinding his teeth.

"Sheer firepower is useless," agreed Miss Pauling, crossing her arms.

"I think you'll find that has never been an issue for me," said Spy, toying absentmindedly with his butterfly knife. "I will be in and out before the woman draws her last breath, no gun required."

"We can't kill her," said Miss Pauling, and the entire room looked genuinely shocked at that information. "If you kill her, the Canadians will radicalize and continue their war or war until no one is left. No, what we need is to capture her and take her as a hostage."

"I'll do it Miss Pauling! I'll bag the broad no problem," said Scout. "It'll take me, what, seconds, probably."

"You'd be the fastest Scout, but this needs to be done discreetly. And quietly," said Miss Pauling. "You are neither."

"I will go tonight," said Spy, tossing the butt of his cigarette on the ground and crushing it with his toe.

"Not alone. Sniper will go with you," said Miss Pauling. Both men looked to each other, disgusted.

"Will all due respect, Miss Pauling, this requires utmost stealth," said Spy. "They'll smell the bushman before we even enter the complex."

"I don' need the likes of him anyway," said Sniper. "He'll probably make the lady dinner and then invite her to dance. It'll take all bloody night. No, I'll get the job done efficient-like. On my own,' he finished, emphasizing the last three words.

Miss Pauling sighed. "This is a two-person job at least, guys. You're the two stealthiest people on the team, and you both have experience with melée weaponry. I don't care how you do it, but you're working together on this."

The two men rolled their eyes and crossed their arms, but nodded their agreement.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our adventures continue.

Outside MANN CO. Tower...

 

Spy and Sniper approached the Mann Co. complex, sneaking from cover to cover. Finally, they hid behind a scrubby bush to revisit their plan before proceeding.

"You sure you know what you're doing?" asked Sniper, eyes narrowed.

"I once operated a Fortune 500 company in disguise for three weeks before anyone realized the actual CEO had been assassinated," snarled the Spy. "And its stock value, I will add, was never higher. Here, put this on," he said, and tossed Sniper some articles of clothing.

Sniper held up a knit hat with a pom-pom, a plaid shirt, and suspenders. "What's all this, then?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"My cloaking device will be disabled once we get near the Canadians and their Borealium. We must disguise ourselves in the old-fashioned way," he explained, pulling on a hockey jersey and aviator hat. He completed his outfit by wrapping a giant knit scarf around his face to hide his mask. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

Sniper sighed but put on the articles of clothing that Spy had handed him. "I feel ridiculous," he said, after pulling on the tuque. 

Spy looked him up and down. "I can hardly tell the difference," he said dismissively. "You remember the plan, I presume?"

"Yeah, yeah,"said Sniper, annoyed. "You worry about your end of the deal, mate, I've got mine covered."

 

Meanwhile, back at RED Base...

 

"What d'ya think they're doing right now?" asked Scout, mashing buttons on the controller as he attempted to kill Saxton Hale's video game monster with his own. "Think they got her yet? Maybe Spy's dead. Maybe they're both dead. I call dibs on all of Spy's alcohol and cigarettes, and all of Snipers-"

"I can't believe this how you men spend your free time," interrupted Saxton, defeating Scout's monster effortlessly and standing up from the couch. "Do you know there are real beasts out there you could be wrestling?" he yelled, waving around the controller to the living room of bored, apathetic mercenaries.

"So go wrestle some," said Engineer, sipping a beer. "What are you still doing here, anyhow?"

"What else am I supposed to do? I can't fight the Canadians myself without being made a fool! Those Canucks don't fight fair," he said, kicking a chair across the room.

"You yerself are running on Australium," noted Demo, taking a swig straight from the bottle of whisky he kept close. "Ya could say you've not technically been fighting fair yer whole life, Saxton."

"What!" yelled Saxton, turning around to confront the Scotsman. "You take that back, you pickled, one-eyed, haggis-eating-"

"He's right though," interrupted the Engineer lightly. "I've worked with Australium, I know what it can do. You've been operatin' on a home team advantage as long as you've been alive, son."

Saxton looked from one man to another, looking hopefully for someone to disagree. Finally, he sighed. "I've got to go and have a think," he said, and picked up a nearby shirt and pulled it over his head. It barely covered his chest and stopped short of covering his navel.

"Hey, that's my-" started Scout. Saxton cut him off.

"Farewell, men! Sometimes, a man's got to do some soul-searching," he said. "When I return, I expect I'll be a changed man," he finished, and marched out of the room.

"The more time we hang out with that wacko, the more I think we got lucky with Sniper only bein' as weird as he is," said Scout, turning back to his video game.

 

Outside MANN CO Tower.

 

Sniper held out a small mirror, confirming that the alley adjacent to him was empty. He turned the corner, taking care to move quickly and silently. He patted the kukri tied to his leg reassuringly. He looked to his left and continued on, before slamming straight into a large, bearded man.

"Oh, sorry!" said the man, smiling. He was dressed similarly to Sniper's outfit, and smiled apologetically. "Didn't see you there, eh."

"Um, sorry?" Sniper replied hesitantly. "Eh?"

"Your accent..."said the man, his expression questioning . Shit, thought Sniper. He hadn't masked his Australian accent well enough, he was going to have to make a run for it. "...you must be from Newfoundland!" finished the man happily, patting him on the back.

"Yes! Newfoundland! That's me," said Sniper, laughing nervously. He knew literally nothing about Newfoundland. Boats, maybe? "Yes, I have a boat, and everything," he added, and immediately regretted it. Nothing about his entire life spent in the Australian Outback had prepared him for discussion about boats. Thankfully, an announcement interrupted them.

"Attention everybody!" came a cheerful female voice. "Just a friendly reminder to sharpen your axes and various weaponry before bed! We have a big day of marching to Washington DC to capture the President! Good night!"

"Ach, I almost forgot!" said the man. "See you around, eh?" he said, slapping him on the back and taking off down the hallway.

Sniper breathed a sigh of relief, and continued on.

 

Inside MANN CO Tower.

 

"Attention everybody!" came a cheerful female voice. "Just a friendly reminder to sharpen your axes and various weaponry before bed! We have a big day of marching to Washington DC to capture the President! Good night!"

Canadians, thought Spy. No subtlety whatsoever. 

He continued up the staircase with a forced smile. Various Canadians walked right by him, all of them smiling and waving at him as they passed by. His face was starting to hurt. He had engaged his smiling muscles more in the last twenty minutes than he had in the entirety of his life previously. Still, it was effective.

Why did Borealium have to render the elevators useless as well? he thought to himself as he continued to march up the stairs. Of course, he was a fantastic physical specimen, but as he looked up and realized he was only halfway to the top, for the first time in his life, Spy considered that maybe, perhaps, he should smoke sightly less. He shook off the thought and immediately lit a cigarette in retaliation.

"Can I bum a smoke off ya, bud?" asked a be-tuqued man in a parka walking down the stairs in the opposite direction. These Canadians were testing Spy's last nerve.

"Here ya go, pal," answered Spy, mimicking their accent perfectly and handing him a cigarette, even though he would have liked nothing better than to kick the man down forty flights of stairs.

"Thanks, guy!" said the man. "Weird smoke, though eh?" he said, inspecting it. Spy internally cursed himself. It was a French cigarette, a dead giveaway. "It's all skinny. This one of them Quebec ones?" the man asked.

"Yes!" answered Spy, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. "I got them from...Jacques," he finished.

"Haha, classic Jacques," said the man, and he continued his way down the stairs. "Have a good night, eh?"

Spy rolled his eyes and peered up over the bannister. He saw the dozens of stairs yet to go, and imagined the amount of Canadians he would have yet to talk to on the way up, and sighed.

 

Inside MANN CO Tower, but LATER...

 

The top floor of the tower was empty. Odd, thought Spy. The Canadian commander-in-chief was supposed to be up here, so why was the security so lax? 

Oh, right - Canadians, Spy thought to himself. He reached the end of the hallway and arrived at what would have usually been Saxton Hale's office. The door was closed, but light was coming through the crack below, and he could hear fiddle music coming from inside. She was awake, then. He had hoped to catch her asleep, but no matter. He took off his bulky disguise and stuffed it behind a large plant, and made his way to the air duct nearby. Miss Pauling had provided him with full blueprints of the building. He shuffled through the vent, his broad shoulders causing him some discomfort. He was thankful that the grating fiddle music below would more than mask what little sound he did make. Finally, he was directly above the office. He could see her below, dressed in a plaid, fur-lined housecoat, playing the fiddle poorly and drinking what looked like an alcohol distilled from pure maple syrup. So, she was distracted and hopefully slightly tipsy. Spy couldn't believe his good luck. This was going to be even easier than he thought. He delicately lifted the grate and prepared to leap into the room. She wouldn't know what hit her.

Spy dropped into to room and was about to knock out the woman, but he was immediately hit in the head with a something remarkably heavy, and he blacked out as he hit the ground.

***

When he came to, he was duct-taped to a chair and could smell something sickly sweet. The woman, now fully dressed in her green Mountie-esque uniform, was waving a maple-dipped doughnut in front of his face, trying to resuscitate him. His eyes snapped open. 

"Bon soir, Monsieur Spy," she said, smiling cheerfully, and she tossed the doughnut aside. "Amelia MacDonald, à votre service." Beside her stood a thin man wearing a green pinstriped suit who was smoking a cigarette that resembled his own. Indeed, he looked remarkably familiar, save for his ridiculous goatee. "Je vous présente mon valet de chambre, Jacques, (*May I present my manservant, Jacques)" she said, motioning to her colleague, who nodded as a small greeting.

"I speak perfect English, you know," said Spy, rolling his eyes.

"Canadian language laws dictate that I address you in your native or preferred of our two official languages, but as you wish," she said, smiling and pulling her arms behind her back. "So! You, like many before you, have made the fatal error of underestimating me. Did you not think that I would have some layer of security? You thought it would be just that easy?" she laughed as she paced back and forth. "Désolé, mon ami! Jacques here is all the security I need." 

"So what now?" sneered Spy. "You kill me, I suppose?"

"No, no. Congratulations, Monsieur Spy, you are our first prisoner of war!" she said excitedly. "You will be shipped back to Canada and put to work in the syrup mines. I hear it is gruelling, but fulfilling work."

"You won't get away with this!" yelled Spy. Amelia rolled her eyes.

"What an obvious, unoriginal thing to say," she said, frowning. "I expected more from you."

"I was just trying to distract you," said Spy casually. "Mind that dart in your neck."

Amelia's gloved hand instinctively went to her neck, and she pulled out a small, feathered dart. She immediately fell to her knees, and behind her, Sniper lowered his blow-dart gun and stepped into the room.

"Stay down, sweetheart, or the next one'll be poison, like the one I gave to your mate, here" he said, kicking the shoe of the freshly dead manservant beside her. Amelia glared at Spy, and then fell to the floor, unconscious.

Spy stood effortlessly from the chair, having escaped from his bindings minutes ago. "Excellent shooting, I must say," he acknowledged, nodding his head in approval as he bent down to pick up the woman and flung her haphazardly over his shoulder.

"You know, I don't know what it is, but something shooting this fella was downright satisfying," said Sniper pensively, nodding toward the pinstriped corpse. "Just...fulfilling to me, as a person."

"Hm," said Spy, frowning at the dead man. "Come. Let us not linger any longer than we have to."

Sniper removed the window pane, and they belayed down the building using Spy's equipment. They crossed the complex quickly and ran to the truck where Miss Pauling had been waiting for them, and they peeled out as the alarms sounded.


End file.
